JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
Stout but refined hooves tread upon hot sand. The particles drift and subside to make room for the black and gold paws that make their way toward -- nowhere in particular. The sun beats down on her dark back, making her ebony tresses shine in the light, and the golden highlights dazzle to a shimmering glow. Feathered appendages splay out from her bodice, stretching and warming in the rays. She's a dark object in a sea of light. The glowing light on her chest is radiant, the sun intensifying it until it is blinding to those who look at it straight on. Her gold orbs sheltered, shadowed by dark lids and lashes.
That's the beautiful specimen that crosses the desert. She comes like an innocent child, lost in the wilderness looking for a home. But there's so much more. There's so much beneath the surface, that she chooses to keep hidden. Her mission is simple, but she does not trumpet it to the world. They will know her name in time, they will know the game that she plays. No one can escape the justice and - if need be, terror - that she will reign down on the world.
Eventually someone will find her. Someone will greet her or try to stop her from entering. That's what happens, right? Someone patrols borders, makes rules. There's the chit chat and small talk that accompanies the meeting of strangers. But she's ready for it, for it is necessary. She's a sweet lass at first glance and can play the game as it suits her needs. Yes, come dears and begin the dance.
The rosy dam trotted across the sea of sand, her hoofbeats soft as feathers. Dark tresses billowed in the breeze, her long locks covering her blind side. An ivory horn sprouted in her third eye, gleaming like polished white bone under the rays of the sun. The mare shook her head, as true dislike coursed through her veins. Having been "born" -- or materialized, whichever -- in the wonderous Hiemsterra, she had an affinity for cold. Although she had wanted nothing more than to die then and return to the stars, the witchy foal grew to love the snow greatly. Now, under the baking light of day, Nimue narrowed her eyes upon the endless dunes.
As she breached the borders of the Court, the dam did not so much as hesitate as she moved forward, seemingly unaware. She had heard rumors of the courts gaining new sovereigns. It's not that she didn't have respect. No.. she was just too curious for her own good. She liked testing boundaries. Plus, the more she discovered of the world on her own accord, the more she could ream the corners of the land for information. Information was valuable -- tangible -- that could be bought, or sold. She smiled internally at the thought.
Oh! And who might that be? As she crested another dune, her orbs caught the sight of an ebony dame several meters ahead of her. She was beautiful, no doubt. Long, shimmery locks like spilled ink fluttering in the wind. Wings stretched to catch the warmth of the sun. Nimue could not deny that she was a marvel. And yet, she also was weary. Another stranger to enchant. A challenge.. all dependent where the ebony lovely's loyalty lie. She let out a soft nicker in welcome, refined ears perked forward. Oh, my darling, let's dance.
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@Inkheart
07-01-2017, 08:43 AM - This post was last modified: 08-13-2017, 11:47 PM by inkbone
Played by
Jeanne [PM] Posts: 399 — Threads: 81 Signos: 100
She was running.
A spray of red-gold sand scattered in the wake of her hooves, glistening like tiny diamonds in the brilliant sunlight. She was cascading, slipping, sliding down the dunes in a slip of grey – and then she was rising up them again, muscular limbs tensed and bent beneath the heat of the sun and the dryness that hung thick and heavy in the wind. Her limber frame rippled beneath her sweat-streaked coat, though she was evidently unconcerned and unbothered by the suffocating heat. For the Mors, today was cool, and Seraphina was intent on covering as much ground as possible whilst on patrol before the sun rose any higher. Descending deeper into the featureless desert with nary a distinguishing landmark to be found, Seraphina was resigned to yet another monotonous day on patrol – if there were other equines caught in the massive sea of sand, they were elusive. ( “Or,” She thought to herself, rather grimly, “a sandwyrm’s already gotten them.”)
She rose above the crest of another towering dune, loose strands of her snow-white mane (though slightly yellowed with dust and sweat) clinging to her neck; Seraphina had learned that even such massive features, no less than thirty feet tall, could disappear within a day in the Mors. She navigated by wind and sky, instead, and despite her near-flawless sense of navigation nowadays, the young mare had gotten lost many a time in her youth. Eyeing the base of the dune, she started slightly as her gaze stumbled upon the shapes of not one but two other mares. One was a delicate, rosy creature, dappled with the dainty blush of dawn and in possession of a sweeping mane and tail; the other was larger and bulkier, though no less beautiful, with her mesh of stark black and gleaming gold and massive, inky wings. Seraphina recognized neither, and, as she began her steep descent of the dune, she realized that neither of them smelled of Solterra.
Well, well, well. Seemed as though she’d found a pair of trespassers. She paced towards them gingerly, muscles tensed in preparation – the cherry-colored mare didn’t exactly exude danger, but she imagined that there was some fight in the darker one. Seraphina fixed them both with an even stare, raising her chin in a hint of authority. “You,” Her voice was rasping, dry with the heat, though nonetheless stubbornly drawling, “You smell of Dawn.” The dainty, dappled creature carried with her a familiar, suffocating sweetness. “Do you have permission to be in the lands of Solterra?” Seraphina’s gaze shifted to the ink-colored woman, then, eyes narrowing as they focused in on the familiar golden amulet on the mare’s chest. Solis? “And you…where do your loyalties lie?” Her scent was strange – a newcomer, perhaps.
@Nimue @Inkheart - sorry this took so long x.x also not sure about when, chronologically, this occurs or how strictly this whole trespassing thing is being enforced but
I'M IN A ROOM MADE OUT OF MIRRORSand there's no way to escape the violence of a girl against herself.☼please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
At first there is nothing. No whisper in the wind or breeze across the dunes. Nothing except the dark force of nature that was making her way through the Mors Desert. But as she stands there, wondering if she will be noticed (as she ought to be), a whinny - most definitely meant for her - rings out behind her. First her slim lobes swivel back to catch the sound waves, then her crown casually turns to look over an ebony shoulder. Her gold eyes take in a delicate, pale creature, trotting up behind her. Slowly, careful to show she is in no hurry and feels no threat, she turns her body to face the stranger.
Inkheart stares with a calculating gaze upon the unicorn. There's no greeting from mare except for the whinny, and she wonders what the stranger's business is here. A visitor? A local returning to her land? Perhaps someone new to Novus, looking for a home. She dips her head barely an inch, out of common courtesy at its bare minimum. Respect is earned, not given freely. (And, to the surprise of many she was sure of it, she expected the same treatment from others.) Before she can speak, another appears over the dunes, running.. running.... The oncoming mare is bare of wings, horns, hair white as snow against a grey but not plain body. She slows her approach, but her words come fast. They are not polite, not in greeting - aggressive, instead, and accusing. Inkheart does not react - at first.
After a pregnant pause, soft lips part in greeting. "I am Inkheart." She remains polite but short in speech. Though curious as to the nature of rosy mare's business, she does not feel the need to broach the subject with unnecessary speed. There is a certain dance that must be observed when one or more parties has any sort of... agenda. And Inkheart always had an agenda. Whether it was to smite demons or praise Solis, concert then nonbelievers, she had to think carefully about the way she would maneuver. Sometimes she jumped the gun and ruined her own plotting. This time perhaps she may wait, and learn more than by interrogation. Certainly, the one who spoke first is one of Solterra, her questioning leaves it all too clear. She enjoys the idea of leaving the 'welcomer' without a reply concerning her loyalties, but there is no hiding inside nor out whom she serves. "My loyalties lie with Solis." Spoken with a somewhat haughty expression - just because you are from Solterra does not mean you serve the truest of the Gods.
One blue-violet orb took in the sight of not one, but two marvelous strangers before her. The inky beauty she had originally nickered to look at her with a calculating gaze. Oh, you are smarter than you look, sweetling. A smug smile curled her lips upward, her brow furrowed. The rosy unicorn turned her head to take in the other dam with her good eye. Long, thick dark reddish-brown locks covered the entire left side of her face, save for a few strands billowing in the hot desert breeze -- confidently covering her blind eye.
Although the silver stranger was taller, the Witch Child rose her chin, looking down on her through thick lashes. She was heaving as if she -- oh. Literally running across the endless dunes. The mare lifted her chin as well, oozing authority. "And you reek of sweat," she retorted with a wicked smile. Obviously she smelled of Dawn. Nimue mentally rolled her eyes. She waited to reply, instead watching the ebony-and-gold femme. The rosy mare's gaze wandered to the shining amulet at her throat, almost as bright as the sun itself. Then the puzzle pieces clicked together -- the necklace, the gold in her hair, her scent.
So, the Witch had joined into a dance with daylight. She pawed impatiently at the ground, taking a mental note of the inky mare's name for later use. Stretching her fine neck, Nimue shook her head, her haunting eyes on the two strangers. Now, she will deign to answer. "My dear, I do not believe the new rulers have even set laws in place. Who's to stop me from entering these lands? You?" she asked, ears flicking back and forth in annoyance. "My name is Nimue. And if you'd excuse me.."
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OOC: I'm really sorry for the crappy post guys D: as for chronologically I believe it's right after the sovereigns have been chosen, but there may or might not be laws in place. Whatever works ^u^
